


Bravery & Comfort

by afteriwake



Series: A Different Path [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Attack In Morgue, BAMF Molly Hooper, Comforting Sherlock, Couch Cuddles, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Molly, POV Sherlock Holmes, Poor Molly, Self-Defense, Worried Sherlock, crying Molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 02:33:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Molly is attacked in the morgue and Sherlock is worried it might have to do with Moriarty's revenge against him. But first, his primary concern is Molly herself.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stbartsmolly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stbartsmolly/gifts).



> So this fic was written for **stbartsmolly** from a prompt from [this list](http://penaltywaltz.tumblr.com/post/137274126169/nonsexual-acts-of-intimacy-select-from-the) (" _Reacting to the other one crying about something_ "), and it seemed angsty so I went with something sad. But not too sad! I hope you don't mind, hun.

The text was his worst nightmare. _Barts. Come now. Molly’s hurt._ He knew it couldn’t be life-threatening or else Lestrade probably would have told him to go to Royal London or some other hospital with A &E services; he doubted Barts would make an exception for even one of their own. He hurried out of the flat, barking at John to grab his coat and _hurry_ , and got in the first cab they could.

They’d gotten no further in figuring out the next tattoo in the sequence on the body, and admittedly he’d only been giving the problem part of his attention as the cases he was solving for Lestrade seemed to take more and more of his days. If Moriarty was behind the surge in crime in the city as camouflage for the crimes directed directly as his revenge at Sherlock, he wasn’t sure.

But if Molly’s injury was directly caused by one of Moriarty’s minions, his days as a consultant were done and his sole focus would be ending the bastard’s plans before anyone else was hurt.

It seemed to take forever to get to the hospital, and there were police in the main lobby, but it thinned out as he and John made their way to the morgue. The doors were guarded by two uniformed police officers and Sally was nearby, talking to a third. She noticed Sherlock and moved over to him quickly. “She’s a tough woman,” Sally said. “She’s got a concussion and needed some stitches, and she went upstairs for an x-ray of her wrist, but she put up a fight.”

“What happened?” Sherlock asked, his voice tight.

“Someone broke in to get the details of an autopsy done on a suspected leader of one of the larger gangs in the area,” Sally said. “We don’t have any reason to believe this has anything to do with the other business. But just in case, Greg wants to extend an invitation for you to join in on the case after you make sure Molly is okay.”

Sherlock nodded, the knot in his stomach loosening a bit. He didn’t think there was a reason Moriarty would need autopsy records. He wouldn’t feel completely sure about things until he’d investigated thoroughly, though he could start to feel better by seeing Molly. “Where is she?”

“In her office,” Sally said. She reached over with a bit of hesitation and squeezed his arm. “She’s alive, Sherlock. Remember that.”

Sherlock nodded again and then went into the morgue, heading towards the office. He opened the door to see Molly sitting in one of the chairs and Lestrade sitting in the other. He could see she was not in the same shirt she had left his flat in that morning, and someone had managed to put her wrist in a splint. “Sherlock,” she said with relief, getting up and going to him. She carefully wrapped her arms around his waist and he embraced her just as carefully, not knowing the full extent of her injuries.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Just banged up and sore and...” She trailed off at that.

“She has some deep cuts to her arms,” Greg said. “It’s what she got from wrestling the knife away from the attacker before she stabbed him in the shoulder and knocked him out.”

Sherlock pulled away and looked at Molly in surprise, and she looked away, blushing. “I thought, given the circumstances, self-defense classes might not be a bad thing. Sally took me to some that the Yard went through. You know, because sometimes I go to crime scenes?”

He wanted to crush her against him, partly because he was thankful for her foresight but also because he thought it was spectacularly foolish of her to take on an armed opponent. He didn’t know what the circumstances had been, though, so he held his tongue. Instead, he gently pulled her back to him and stroked her back until he could feel her breathing even out more. “Do you want to go to your flat or Baker Street?” he asked.

“Baker Street,” she murmured into his chest.

“Are you going to help with the investigation?” Lestrade asked Sherlock.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “I think Molly needs me more tonight.”

“I can stay here for a while and get information for you,” John volunteered. Sherlock knew it would be better if he got the information himself but he assumed this was John’s way of giving him and Molly some privacy. He nodded and then moved away from Molly and went to where her handbag was, getting it, and then carefully put an arm around her shoulders, standing on the side without the splinted wrist, and guided her out of her office and then the morgue once she put her arm around his waist.

He could tell she was putting on a brave face but she was shaken. He didn’t even need his skills at deduction to know that; he simply knew Molly that well by now. He could tell when there was something on her mind that she needed to talk about and when she was holding something in, and it seemed as though both of those things were occurring right now. But a cab was not the place to have that type of conversation, so when they got into the back of the first one he could wave down he simply stayed close and let her take the comfort she needed.

When they arrived at Baker Street he helped her out of the cab, paid the driver and then went to open the door for them. They went inside and she just seemed to slump. He took off his Belstaff and tossed it on the back of a chair in the sitting room, then sat in his chair and gently pulled her into his lap. As her shirtsleeves rode up he could see bandages on her arms and he let his finger run along the bottom of one. “What happened?” he asked gently.

“I was putting a body away when the door opened,” she said quietly. “I was lucky I didn’t have my back to the door because I saw the man come in, ski mask over his face and hunting knife in his hand, making a beeline towards me. I picked up a scalpel and I...” She hiccuped a bit. “I used it to stab and poke as he slashed at my arms, and I...I saw my shirt turn red, and I knew I had to get the knife away from him, so I got close so he could...try to stab me, but he grabbed my wrist and twisted to get me to drop my scalpel, and the pain...and I just snapped and I used the scalpel and jabbed at his face and he dropped the knife and I scrambled and grabbed it and stabbed him in the shoulder and then hit him with a metal pan...” By now the hiccups in her storytelling were being followed by tears and he guided her face to the crook of his neck and just let her cry, running his hand down her back to soothe her.

He had been in dangerous positions, as a teenager and as an adult, but he’d never imagined Molly would go through something like this. The anger he’d felt that she had foolishly fought the attacker was gone, knowing that she was brought into this whether she wanted to be or not. And she was brave, so brave, and had survived. He would tell her that over and over as often as she needed to hear it until she believed it or until she stopped having the nightmares he knew would come. And tomorrow he knew he would join the investigation and make sure this was not Moriarty’s doing, that it really was some thug trying to steal an autopsy report of a gang leader, but for now he would comfort her and soothe her fears and be whatever she needed him to be.


End file.
